


PaperCut

by Dark_Star101, Mz_skrllx_mutant (That_Multifandom_Fangirl)



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:03:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Star101/pseuds/Dark_Star101, https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Multifandom_Fangirl/pseuds/Mz_skrllx_mutant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning of one life starts at the end of another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dark_Star101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Star101/gifts).



> This is my first time posting any of my work. Please be gentle.

I never knew life could be this dark. Mother never told me. The corruption of all good, pure emotions dwelling so deep, the mere mention of those words made others ill. She felt another blow. This was "love". He'd spat it at her enough times in the last hour of her life. She felt her tears fall on one of her books. 'Not in front of the children.' She wanted to sneer. Her mind was warping. Oh no. Dear God no.


	2. The End ~ Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her story continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. Enjoy.

Penelope felt the blows become distant.

What was happening? 

Was he letting up? 

She heard him sigh. "This is it. I've had it Penelope. You don't love me but I love you. And I hate that. That rejection. I hate it."   
She heard the tearing of paper and telltale snick of a lighter being lit.   
"Well you and your precious books can all burn. I still love you. But. I. Just. Can't."

He pulled the book she had under her body. 

"I'll keep it my love. To remind me of you. Goodbye my Penny. Goodbye my Darling."

She heard the door close and the crackle of burning pages. 

He was burning the storeroom? 

Penny wanted to scream. To cry. To escape. She tried to crawl but she couldn't. Her body was useless. Trying to crack open her eyes she realised with sinking feeling that one of her eyes was already open, but swollen and covered with a thin veil of blood. She felt her split lips open and a garbled whimper fall from them.

The smell of burning paper assaulted her nose temporarily overpowering the coppery tang of blood. She could feel the caress of the heat, her body not fully functional to assess the full extent of the heat. 

Everything was dimmed. She tried to cry out again but nothing more than a gurgling groan was heard. 

'He broke my ribs. Punctured my lungs, and possibly nicked my heart. He's broken me. He's taken my books and my life. I'm finished.' She thought wearily. 'I'm finished.' 

She silently prayed for her family and for herself. And even the man who did this. 

'I want him to suffer too.' 

She breathed her last breath as her eyes closed to the flames, the destruction and life itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who've read this. Constructive criticism is welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

*FlashBack*

Penelope sits quietly under the trees reading. School is almost out now. Graduation is in a few months. She places the book on her lap and reflects on the last few years. "Always an outcast." she mutters. 

Wryly she surveys the cliques of adolescents around her. "Always on the outskirts I guess." She holds the book up again and begins to read, her current train of thought skewing the words on the pages. The words muddle frustrating her. Angrily she stops and let's the unbidden thoughts of her family life rise to the surface. 

'Kay's leaving soon and so is Robbie. He's going to be a coaching assistant and Kay, darling Kay, is leaving to fulfill her dreams of stage life and stardom. Mom and dad invested so much. I hope she makes good of it.' She sighs. 'Kay had it easier. But for mom and dad it'll be easier if I get that scholarship. Ugh. I feel like crying. Enough of this. I need to read.' 

Focusing on the words on the page she sinks back into the plot letting the words flow over her. She could almost feel the writer's intent, the feeling he put into the words. The rush. She's sinking into it again. Resistance is futile. The weightlessness is freeing, being swept away by the author's thoughts. She smiles. Books truly are an escape.

*End Of Flashback*


	4. Chapter 4

Penelope awoke to the faint smell of smoke, lingering just above the sharp scent of...alcohol? Antiseptic? Struggling against the urge to resume her sleep she opens her eyes to bright lights.

Temporarily blinded, she squints taking in the distorted view of the stark white ceiling with the colour being marred in places by tastefully blended gray panels. Penelope stops, her ears alert. The noises flood her. 

High pitched beeps of some machine, voices. She tunes it out. Focussing, she hears fainter beeps and quiet sobs. Someone was in the room. She glances around after finding herself unable to move. 'Sleep paralysis?', her mind supplies. 'Shouldn't that be done with by now? I'm awake.' Frowning, she senses the anxiety settling into her mind. Was the beeping getting louder? 

She glances around, praying to catch sight of something, anything, that could help her or at least give her a clue as to where she was. She squints, hoping something would come into view. The frequency of the beeps grow. 'What on earth is that sound? Won't someone shut it off?', she thinks, frustrated at her inability to move and angry that she couldn't find her glasses. 

The sobbing stops and an audible gasp is heard. She searches the room again seeing the blurry outline of a woman fleeing the room. She can hear a voice calling for a doctor. The urgency in the woman's voice has her even more anxious. Her head hurts. She feels nauseous. Her chest is constricting. She can't breathe. 

Hurried footsteps are heard distantly. 'The doctor and the woman most likely', her mind supplies. Her eyes shut of their own accord. Her throat burns. Penelope cracks her eyes open, the view still blurry. Where were her glasses? 

The outline of the doctor is touching a monitor. A cool feeling envelopes her seconds later. The screaming stops and so does the burning in her throat. She glances around again, momentarily making out the woman's face. It was drawn, her brown skin pale, and was that worry or horror on her face? 'Who is she?' was Penelope's last thought before she sank into the embrace of the inky darkness of her closed eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope experiences a flashback while still unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read and continues to read. ☺

*Flashback*

Penelope opens the letter, her heart pounding. The exams were over months ago. Now was the moment of truth. Fingers trembling, she unsteadily opens the envelope. Removing the letter from it's encasement, she unfolds it and skims.

The only words that stand out are "regret", "denied". Her numb fingers let the letter slip. No. No. No. No. NO. The phrases tumble around in her mind. "Regret to inform". " Application denied." "Reapply in the near future." The bile rises in her throat at the mocking phrase: "Love to have had you." 

She looks around the courtyard, her body leaden, her brain, sluggish. They're celebrating. Her school mates were celebrating. A few looked stricken but they were holding up well. Those guys got sport scholarships. That girl got a drama scholarship. Those guys got a dance scholarship. Someone rejoiced over their music scholarship. Was everyone getting a scholarship of sorts?

She got a scholarship too? Oh. A joint one. With him? Her stomach turns. Does she really need it? Do they really need it? Their parents can afford it. Their parents can afford to pay their tuition. Wasn't someone else deserving? She chided herself. 'Sore loser much?' She thinks.

She listens to the murmurs emerging out of the groups, sounding distant and distorted as though moving through water. "Joint scholarship?" An unknown whisperer sneers. "Her dad rigged it. He pays for everything at this dump. It's only fair she gets something out of it,right?" The others agree. Another voice sounds. "I deserved that more." 

She can't help but agree. She knows the owner of that voice. Dear God he needed that scholarship. Wanted that. Earned it. She can't help but empathize and sympathize with him. 'That would have been us had life been fair.' Her mind supplies viciously. 'Had we worked harder. Had we done more.' 

The dull ache grows. It's painful to breathe. She clutches her chest. Taking slow breaths she drags the thick feeling air into her lungs. 'Hurts to breathe.' She thinks unhelpfully. She frowns. Her head hurts.

Steadying herself she leans over and picks up the letter. It's a wonder it hadn't blown away. She'd have been grateful if it had. A shuddering laugh escapes her lips. Her eyes burn. 'Don't you dare cry.' She mentally hisses. 

Grabbing at the letter, a sharp corner cuts her finger. Jerking away she mutters hateful words at it. "Haven't you caused me enough pain?" She asks it, her voice trembling. Gripping it tightly, she stuffs the offending piece of paper into the "fancy" envelope.

Her skin is burning. She needs to get home. She needs to cry. She needs to feel. The numbness in her heart hurts. She needs to let it out. 

Glancing up, she sees a person moving swiftly through the crowd toward her. Panicking, she hastily walks away from the spot, out of the school yard and into the street, all the while ignoring the call of her name.

*Flashback End*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any errors are spotted, feel free to let me know. All errors are my own or due to my phone's autocorrect.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. Thank you to all my readers. 

~The darkness is comforting~

She feels the familiar return to consciousness washing over her like warm water. Her mind can't help but liken the feeling to being submerged in the inky depths of the ocean rising slowly through it to the surface, the water warm, welcoming. She opens her eyes to the silver moon light crowning the unknown woman's black with a dull gray.

Penelope shifts enjoying the moment; her body finally responding to the nerve impulses. She smiles and goes to awaken the woman but a sudden knee jerk reaction from her stiff legs hits the woman squarely on her head, knocking her over. 

Laughing at the absurdity of it all she crawls to the edge of the bed ready to apologize. Wondering if the reason why the woman hadn't gotten up was due to embarrassment or injury, she cautiously peeks over the side of the bed not wanting to startle the woman and at the same time, add insult to injury. 

She sees the woman face down on the floor, her hair still dull in the pale light. It's disconcerting. 

Easing herself onto the floor she struggles to lift the woman and turn her over, only to come face to face with the moldering flesh of the woman's face. Maggots pour out of the orifices that once held her eyes and her mouth. Dropping the woman's corpse in shock, she scrambles away from the body back onto the bed. She takes in the surroundings with fear. 

She can now note the musty smell of the room, the underlying smell of decay and ash. The moonlight gives the room an eerie feel. Penelope shudders, feeling the cold soaking through the thin hospital dress. She slides off on the opposite side of the bed away from the woman's body. She retches.

The smell of the room combined with the horrifying sight she just witnessed taking a toll on her. Dashing out of the room she finds herself in the corridor of the hospital, the smell of smoke permeating the air, and sees the broken down panels and blackened walls. 

She stumbles and slips on a old newspaper. The pages flutter. She picks up the paper and reads the headline."Man's body found in park." She shudders, the coldness chilling her bones. She hears crackling faintly in the distance but instead focuses on the article. She feels nauseous as she reads the gory details of the man being dismembered, cuts about his body. 

The nausea builds as she reads. Placing her hands over her mouth she feels the rise of liquid in her throat as she reads that he was drained of blood. Dropping the newspaper, she sits back and wills the nausea away. 

Opening her eyes she comes to to the sight of the hospital on fire, blood soaked pages and her legs almost being touched by the flames. Screaming she jumps back hitting the wall and rises to her feet. Looking around she realizes that she's trapped. 

Her body shakes violently. 'I'm going to die.' She thinks. 

Her eyes open again and she comes face to face with a distorted figure. Opening her mouth again she shrieks at the top of her lungs.

She distantly hears the beeping of machines and panicked voices. 

'The inky darkness is welcoming' 

Is the last thing she remembers thinking before she feels the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any errors are found, please feel free to report them. All errors are either mine or due to autocorrect.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A remorseful encounter.

Have you ever regretted something just as you had completed it? Or worse yet, started? But somehow, just somehow, you were in too deep to stop? I hadn't even realized until the funeral, that moment in the cold cemetery, the chill in the air suddenly not so cold, that I was. Her remaining family members and herself mourning the loss of two of their cherished members.

The hours after as they sat with relatives, the distant look on her face that she'd managed to mask so well. The rawness of her true emotions just there under the surface for many weeks after. I'd seen them. Read them like a book. I considered the unspoken words between us secret exchanges. I thought they'd meant something. Something profound. But somehow, they weren't. Grief does strange things to people.

She shrugged off my attention, moved on when the pain was bearable. This close for so many years and we just almost abruptly halted our friendship. I can still feel the pain in my heart as you'd said it. 'Only now I've realized your feelings. I'm so sorry. I can't return them. It's just... I need to fix me before. Else I'll hurt everyone.' The heartbreak hasn't healed yet. It breaks even now. You've not stopped hurting me even after all this time. I tried to recover, patch myself up. Bravado and false confidence works wonders for the keeping up of appearances. You saw right through the ruse though as did I, yours. Was that the reason we distanced ourselves? Too afraid to confront what we know the other saw?

You found your niche. Close to your heart, but in the physical world, close to me. Much too close. We were almost always in close proximity but in our friendship, distant. People must have noticed. But eventually we apologized without a word said and relaxed our boundaries. Somewhat. That one snatched conversation we had comes back. "Inventory? Do I have to do that?" I'd asked. "Of course you do. You want to be paid, right?" You'd fired back. We'd bustled around with the books, putting them in order, shelving them and cataloging them. I'd asked your view on romance after finding a book of romance poems. You'd grimaced, your expression innocent and immature. "I can say with great conviction that I'm not emotionally mature enough for relationships. But friendship? Ah. I need to learn that first. Don't you think?"

I'd resigned myself to be your watchman, your bodyguard, your knight. I'd protect you until you found yourself ready to venture out of your comfort zone. But I could say for certain, you really were immature when it came to feelings. Or human interaction in general to an extent.

You'd missed the looks of adoration and admiration. I saw only flickers on yours. Fleeting moments of understanding but they'd be quashed almost instantly. Were you insensitive to their feelings? I'm sure that you weren't. But what if? I remember the confusion when I'd admitted my true feelings. I have to admit, your innocence is astounding. No. It *was* astounding. Can it really be true? Are you really...gone?


	8. Chapter 8

The bitter taste of alcohol intermixed with bile made his already upset stomach lurch. The copper tang of blood hung in the air. The white towels in the bathroom were stained red and on the floor beside him. He retched again. The crunch he'd heard was satisfying until the reality stared him in the face as he chanced to glance in the mirror. He was sober now.

Two bright lives were extinguished tonight. The rage tapered down to nothing. Had he believed his father about the devil leading people into evil and then laughing at them when they faced the situation, he'd expect the devil to be on his shoulder, enjoying his anguish. He'd watched himself in the mirror. The bravado had faded and the hollowed out shell was there. 

He'd allowed his buckling knees to let him fall. Was it due to...what? Adrenaline? Fear? Disgust? Shame? Or was it a combination of all of them? He'd retched with the smell of blood. The conviction of the deed. The pain of actually succumbing to such a low deed. He'd washed the blood away. He still felt it. Cloying with its smell; he could still feel it under his nails. Under his skin. He howled, banging his head on the floor. 

'Let the neighborhood hear.' He thought viciously. 'Let them see the fall of man.' He wept, the reality poisoning his mind. He was a murderer. He lay on the floor, the cool ground soothing his aching head. He'd been sick, the retching gave him a headache and the head banging was making it worse. He almost forgot about the alcohol. The sour taste in his mouth prompted him to get up. Rinsing his mouth, he saw the banging of his head had caused a small split in his forehead. The blood trickled down, joining the mess on his shirt. He screamed.

Tearing at this clothes and hair, he shredded the garments. The pieces landed in a pile on the floor. The bloody towels, the ragged pieces of his garments and his ripped hair were gathered onto the pile and set ablaze with the use of some alcohol he'd kept for cleansing wounds...and the lighter that had extinguished her life.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope finally regains consciousness with some side effects of the fire affecting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read. All errors are my own.

Penelope feels her consciousness return. There's a pressure of a hand on her head. Was someone is brushing her hair? It feels so…nice. She smiles and hears the person gasp. "Penny? Sweetheart, can you hear me?" A feminine voice asks. Her eyes flutter open. She's about to reply when the sting of her throat has her coughing. It's so dry. She feels the press of a straw against her cracked lips. "Drink." the voice commands. She parts her lips and draws the liquid into her mouth. It's cool and comforting. Water, right? "Darling, what's your name?" Penelope frowns. "Penny?" she answers, unsure. The woman gives a tired smile. What did that mean? Was she forgetting something?

"Can you remember anything?" Like a knee jerk reaction her mind floods with images. Fire. Burning. Pain. She slowly shakes her head. The woman looks away and sighs. Turning back she looks directly into Penelope's eyes and asks another question. "Sweetheart, do you know who I am?" She watches the woman's face seeing the desperation on her face, the need for Penelope to recognize her. "I'm sorry. I can't-" she croaks out before her mind is again flooded with memories. This woman and...a man? What was he saying? The memory was just on the edge. "Penny darling. Come to daddy." She gasps. Looking at the dejected look on the woman's face, she realizes. "Mama?"

They'd talked for hours during which Penelope had to relearn some simple things. Her name was the only thing she'd not forgotten. Eating and resting were concepts she had a slight grip on but there were moments of confusion that worried the woman greatly. Names and events she had forgotten and to an extent, her age. Her mother cringed thinking back to when she had asked her about the date and hearing her whisper almost in fear "But I thought it was the Year of Our Lord 1578". It was strange to hear the child speak the way she did normally but that made Penelope's mother very uncomfortable. Was the damage worse than it had been initially thought?

It had been three weeks and five days since Penelope escaped the fire. The day after the fire, her second day in the hospital, she had woken up screaming. Her mother sighed deeply. She'd hit her head with the possibility of a concussion, there were signs of smoke inhalation and bruising on her body. Her mother had cried when she'd seen the state of the girl that night in the hospital. . And then to find out that someone had been burnt in there. She shuddered. "Think happy thoughts Janica. Your baby is alive. God bless the mother who lost hers in that fire. 

She thought back to their conversation that day. Everything she'd missed while she was sleeping, her brother's and father's deaths, and her sister's moving, how she felt. Penelope had opened up about what little she could remember. How scared she was. If she would ever remember who she was. It was the most open she'd seen the child in a while. Walking out of the cafeteria, she remembered that Penelope's doctor had asked to see her. 

Janica had met the doctor about four times. The first time she had seen the man, she barely paid mind to him only interested in her daughter's well-being as well as the second and third time. But she had seen him this morning when Penelope had woken up. His disposition was stern but somehow softened by his round face and white whiskers. For lack of a better comparison, he reminded her of Santa Claus. Just a sterner version. She was so deep in thought that she had passed the doctor's office straight. ‘Now’, she thought, 'what was his name again?'

"Penelope's mother right? Mrs...?" the doctor started. "Please. Call me Janica. I rarely use my last name." Janica interrupted. "Too many painful memories comes along with the name, I'm afraid." She looked away, tears threatening to well up. The doctor cleared his throat as his own eyes cast on a picture on his desk. Janica knew that look anywhere. She had had it so many times and saw it reflected on the faces of the men and women in the Widows and Widowers support group that it was almost second nature to figure it out. He resumed. "My condolences ma'am. Please have a seat. I'd like to talk to you about your daughter. You said that she responded positively to your touch?" Janica could barely restrain a smile. "Yes she did. The first day... I wasn't sure I'd ever get my baby back." 

The doctor took notes and looked at the woman sympathetically. "Yes. I thought so too but I'm afraid that here on out we must keep a close eye on her." He paused, expecting the woman to question him. When she didn't, he continued. "The impact that she suffered to her head, by the crack on her skull, must have been great for that to occur. Also, to make it out of a burning building? Well, I'll say that your child shows great tenacity. But as a precaution we need to warn you that there may be some...glitches here and there." Janica frowned. "What sort of glitches, doctor?" 

The doctor clears his throat. He had heard the awkward pause Janica had tried to cover after she had said "doctor". "Call me Doctor MacCallum." he said smiling softly. "Well, it seems that Penelope may have some memory loss. Probably permanent. Some motor function may be lost and also sensibility touch." "But she felt me brush her hair and smiled. Doesn't that mean she can feel?" The doctor sighed. "It may be that she felt the reassuring pressure and associated it with a past memory. But it can also mean the opposite as well. It is possible that she can recover but from a medical point of view, I believe that it's a fifty-fifty chance." Her mother smiled. "Those odds I can handle. She had the same apply to her when she was born and look at her. She survived then and by God, this time she will too." The doctor smiled. "Keep that faith. Pray and do whatever you do to keep you going. It will be of great benefit to Penelope as well."

Janica walked out of the office and made her way back to her daughter's room. In the dark, she sat next to the bed and wept. Sobbing, she prayed for her family. She didn't notice the look flicker across Penelope's face in the dimly lit room: Hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any errors are found, please let me know so I can fix them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Penelope's memories return and sheds a new light on her current situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I'm very late, I'd like to wish everyone a very Happy and Prosperous New Year filled with peace and happiness. Thank you again for sticking with the story so long and being so understanding with the sporadic updates. ~ T_MF_F

‘Daddy had told me that life was momentary.’ she whispered to no one in particular. Her was mother sound asleep and so, she relished the moments before the woman became conscious again. 'I do love her', she thought wryly, 'But sometimes she stifles me so.' She felt a memory slowly rising through the fog.

She remembered she and her father talking one cold afternoon. They had been talking about something trivial. Was it a bad grade or an off-hand comment by a classmate? what ever it had been had caused her to come home out of sorts. She’d come home crying and sullen. Her father had watched her closely that evening, waiting until she had stopped shutting them out. The conversation had started off really boring. Something about the stock market. They switched topics to some funny incident her dad had experienced, she shared one of hers. 

He talked about a particular incident at work. A coworker complaining about the boss being “tough on him”. The same man had later on been promoted by the same boss he had said had it out for him. She knew where this was headed. A lecture. ‘Oh joy’ she thought. “Penny, you have to change your focus.” He had said. 

He’d used the grandfather clock Grandma Nina had given to them. It puzzled her beyond all reason. Why not use a camera instead? But he had barreled on with his explanation. “The pendulum never stays in one place more than a second.” She understood the concept. Internally groaning, she knew there was more. “Darling”, he had whispered as she looked beyond him, "Though life works in mysterious ways, take every situation as a learning experience. You may not understand now, but you will." 

She had been so angry at him for that. ‘Changing focus’. She almost snorted at the idea. The feeling of…failure? Or was it something else? It had been too raw, too fresh to just “change her focus”. He left her with more questions than answers. Before she could ask he had moved over to her bookshelf and searched out one of his favorites. "Now little one, let's read you a bedtime story." That night had been Through the Looking Glass.

‘It hurts to think of you dad.’ She thought, the swirling emotions clouding her mind. She feels her throat close up. ‘It hurts to think of you and Donnie. It hurts to think of the chances I've lost.’ She feels the tears form. ‘It hurts to think about the fire. It just hurts so much.’ “Everything hurts” she whispers. Penelope looks around the room. Her mother fell asleep on the bed, pressed close to the side of her knees. Her tears silently fell. ‘I wish I didn't worry her so.' 

She can feel something making its way out of the mess of feelings. It’s prominent and burning hotly in her chest. Her anger flares. No. It’s rage. ‘Why did you die and leave us behind?’ she wants to shout. She focuses on the ceiling, channeling her thoughts to the ceiling. It helps to focus it at something, anything, other than her mother. ‘Can't you see how much we hurt?’ The fury boils as she silently rages. ‘I don't see why you and Donnie had to die, dad.’ She finds her memories of that night blurring. It’s not Donnie and her father she’s seeing, but someone else. Her pain increases. Her memories are messed up. The rage increases. ‘You and your pendulum theory.’ 

She feels the frustration build. The frustration melds with the rage. Her mind is muddled again. ‘It's useless now because that old clock has stopped.’ She scoffs mentally. ‘I'm that pendulum, dad.’ She smirks between the tears, finally understanding the metaphor. “Life is a constant swing from good to bad. Each moment fleeting.” Her mother had said at dinner once. Her father had smiled his cryptic smile and hadn’t expanded on it. She had thought it strange then. Looking to her mother, she felt the tears flow harder. ‘Both of you gave us as many hints as you could. Life was ours to figure out.’ She felt the rage drain out. The bone deep resignation was almost comforting. More worrying than comforting. “But somehow, still comforting.” She whispered into the air. “I'm stuck on the wrong side of the clock, dad.” Her mother shifted in her sleep, stretching her arms out to some unknown person. When she had settled herself, Penelope resumed her thinking.

‘I'm sad. Hurt. Despairing.' She can almost hear the dam of emotions breaking. 'I've failed you and mom and Donnie and Dana too.' Her chest hurts. She wants to scream. 'Worst of all, I've failed myself.’ The tears falling torrents, her chest feeling tighter than it had ever been before and her breathing ragged. Thank God they had stopped checking her vitals earlier else the machines would have been blaring by now. She slowly inhales and exhales, closing her eyes and focusing her thoughts on a happier place, a method she had learned by reading a book on stress relief. 

‘Changing my focus.’ She smiles while letting her mental burdens go. ‘It is freeing to let some of this hurt go.’ She silently prays for her surviving family members and the ones she lost, finally feeling at peace with herself. With a final good night prayer, she settles down to sleep. 

But there’s a nagging thought that she’s missing something or forgetting something. The peaceful feeling almost completely vanishes. It disturbs her greatly that there's something she's missing. 

‘My memory loss can be a positive or negative thing. What I lost is bound to be back.’ She thinks, her eye lids dropping heavily. Her final conscious thought drifts into her sleep addled mind.

‘I only hope I can handle it.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All errors are my own. If you find any errors, please let me know.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New characters are introduced each with some aspect of influencing Penelope's recovery.

The man’s body is lifted by the strips of paper being used as a proxy. He’s suspended five feet above the ground. His assailant smirks. “Didn’t your mom tell you about playing games? They are so dangerous for your health.” With a wave of their hand the man falls, the crunch of his neck breaking having a momentary effect. The wince was real. The panic wells up until it was brushed over for a more appealing feeling. The dark substance crawls toward the man and mixes into his spilt blood. The mixture retreats into the open area of the man’s neck effectively cleaning the blood off the ground. 

The cracked skull shifts back into place and the body momentarily stands. Slowly the flesh falls away, skin still attached. Before it hits the ground it’s dried and leathery, the appearance similar to pages. The skin is dark and tough, dried to perfection. The hair falls away linking itself into cord. The organs dry away and mix with the dissolving bones. New pages are added to the mass on the floor. Slowly, the mixture spreads itself on the pages, words forming in red. The assailant smiles at the newly completed novel. A one of a kind. 

“He could never say he wasn’t worth something.” The assailant says walking to collect the new book. “Fool.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------PAPER-CUT---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The bitter taste of alcohol washes away the taste of blood. Another murder. What was he doing? First Penelope now Franz? What was wrong with him? Looking in the mirror, he sees the disheveled version of his usual staring back at him. Bruises and cuts marred his face in places; his nose may have been fractured. His hair was unkempt, his eyes were with dark circles and his mouth had a week old scruff on it. He needed to lay low. Removing his clothes, he placed them in the trash. Whipping out the lighter, he lights the clothes. Using some alcohol, he throws it in the bucket to accelerate the burning. He hurriedly showered, changed and combed his hair into a messy hold and leaves with the bag he had packed for the weekend trip he Penelope, Star and Franz had planned. 

'Three out of the four are dead now' he thought.

Closing the door, he locks it, picks up his bags and walks down the stairs to the lobby. Dropping the bags, he takes the elevator up to his level and opens the door. He needs to tidy up. The burnt clothes he puts into his new carry bag and he swiftly neatens up the rest of the apartment. His dad had replaced the broken mirror when he'd left on his trip to Franz's house. He shuddered as he scrubbed the floor. 

Franz. 

The way his blue eyes had widened when he'd realized what was going to happen. They mirrored Penelope's. The fear, resignation but more importantly the betrayal. They'd looked...broken. He thought about Franz's and Penelope's bodies. No one would find Franz's but Penny's must have been found by now. The bitter taste rose. Scudding over the floor, he empties his stomach into the sink. The tears flowed freely. He was a mess and a murderer. Picking up the phone he calls his most trusted contact. He needs to disappear for a while. 

Franz had sat by the docks, waiting. He was supposed to be here by now. It was half past the hour of why am I even out here this hour of the night. He needed to sleep. Morley needed to take his shift. With cold fingers, he whips out his phone and sends a quick text. He hears a sound behind him. Spinning around he sees no one around. Turning back he expects to find the view of the lake with the moon's reflection but instead sees the person he'd been waiting for. 

"Dude! What is wrong with you?! Are you crazy?! I almost died man! Jeez." 

The guy laughs.

"Chill? Is that what you're telling me to do?" Franz hisses. "I didn't scare you now did I?" 

He manages to get Franz calmed down and begins to confess. 

"Don't freak out?! How am I not supposed to freak out after that? You set fire to a building!"

He continues the confession, looking at the morph of Franz's face. 

"You...did...what?" His voice is barely above a whisper. "You...k...k...Ki...kill...ed...Her." He's gasping now. His face has a bluish tinge to it. 

"Why....?" He watches as the boy's face slackens. He looks sick. 

 

"I admit. I loved Penny but I was planning to tell you guys this weekend that I was moving with Star. We're dating. We're engaged." He feels the impact of the first punch.

He's screaming now at Franz, cursing his existence. 

"First Penny and now Star? Can't I be given a chance too?" Franz spits, the word mixed with the blood of his cut lip. The guy doesn't look much better himself. He looks thoroughly roughed up.

"She never loved you, you know. Said you were too spoiled." Franz smirks. That idiot smirks. 

Looking at him defiantly, Franz hisses, "She said that if it wouldn't have messed with our friendships, we'd have dated." 

The look of split second realization, fear and betrayal on his face was worth hitting him with the bat. His body didn't move. 

The resounding crack of the bat hitting his head echoed though the still night. "You could have lied." he whispered. 

Wrapping the body, he drags it to the forest and buries it between the trees next to their weekend cabin. Star’s mom and dad owned it but they rarely used it. It was perfect. Finding a rusty dirt covered shovel he cries as he digs the grave. They'd come up to this selfsame cabin ten years ago with their families. The trees had their names carved into the bark. It was the only apology he could think of. When he deemed the hole deep enough he dragged the body into it. Laying the body like a child to his cradle, he whispers his apologies to the boy. Climbing out, he barely restrains himself from being sick. 

Retching, he shovels the dirt over the body.

"You could have lied." He sobs. 

"You could have." he hisses accusingly, at who, he doesn't know.

\------------------------------------------------------------------PAPER-CUT---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Penelope wakes, stiff and tired. The dreams she had last night. They were so scary but somehow she couldn't leave. Her mom walked in with breakfast. Turning on the news she sees the breaking news bulletin on. What on earth was going on? Her mother turned up the volume and watched the screen intently as the reporter spoke.

"We have just received word that a man from this building behind us has disappeared. Officers have found a leather bound book with what seems to be human remains affixed to the cover. It has also been discovered that blood matching the victim's blood type has also been found at the scene. More with this report as the story develops."

Penelope distantly hears her mother saying something but she can't hear over the sound of buzzing in her ear. She had had a dream with the exact the same thing happening. Her head swam.

Realizing that Penny was extra quiet, her mother turned to see the drawn expression on her daughter's face. "Penny...?"

"Doctor!" Janica shrieks as Penelope's eyes roll back into her head.

"Her fragile state could be a bother to her. Her mind is still trying to comprehend some things. The gruesomeness of the murder could have made her feel faint and so she passed out." The doctor supplied. "See ma'am? She's OK." 

Penelope opened her eyes a sheepish smile on her face. "I overheard the conversation and I can assure you it was only that." 

Her mother sighed. She was okay. 

The doctor frowned. "Penelope, have you been having problems sleeping or waking?" 

She thought back. "Waking mostly. Why'd you ask doctor?" 

Smiling tightly, he tells her that it was simply a question doctors ask especially when patients had head trauma. Not believing his explanation, Penelope nodded. 'I guess it's the best noncommittal response for this situation' she mused. 

Her mind wandered. From what she could deduce from her mother's tight expression and the doctor's equally tight one, she could only guess that something was wrong with her brain. Hemorrhage? Blood clot? Tumor? Bruising on her temporal lobe? 

It must have shown on her face that she was in discomfort. 

"It's alright, dear." The Doctor says soothingly. "Everything will be alright."

Penelope barely manages to suppress the cringe.

'Doc, how do you begin to explain what just happened?' she thinks, the fear enveloping her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All errors are my own. Feel free to point them out.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story starts closing. Loose ends are finally being tied up and questions are being answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story begins winding down. Long chapter ahead.

~Three Weeks Later~

Penelope looked around the room that served as her home during her convalescence. It was two days shy of three months she had been there. She couldn’t believe it. Three months? Somehow it felt longer. “Ready to go?” her mom asked, breaking her train of thought. Looking at her mom with a wry smile, she nodded. ‘I love you mom. I really do. But would it kill you if I took a few minutes for myself?’ she though while looking at the woman’s face, her eyes creased with worry. ‘I can almost hear you thinking about why we haven’t left yet.’ She sighed. ‘It’s been a little over two months and I’ve been monitored without a moment’s respite. I haven’t even been allowed to read or think without you there to hold my hand. Mother, give me breathing room.’ She realized with a sinking heart that she would have nothing to go back to except her mother’s house. The bookstore burnt to the ground.

That’s why she was here, nursing the wounds she sustained. Her hand ached. The majority of cuts were centered there. A ghost of tension formed itself just above the fractured rib she had. It was healed though but yet… And of course, her head wounds. She could list off the doctor’s notes she’d managed to peek at.  
“Smoke inhalation. Slight irritation in passage. Antibiotics prescribed. Breathing equipment provided while under.” ‘Under’ she realized much later, was referring to the induced coma they had put her in. She shuddered. In the margin she saw the doctor’s personal notes. “Breathing under control. Rib is healing nicely. Hand wounds have started to close. As long as she stays under, no scarring will be noticed.” She wondered why he’d said that, but then the meaning of the words sunk in. ‘I’d have only thought I had a mild head wound or something. If I had known that anything else was wrong, I’d have panic attacks or God knows what else.’ Her mom came back, a concerned look on her face. “Ready now?” she asked quietly. “Yes.” She answered, the reply bitten off.

“I don’t want to leave.” she whispers, knowing that as soon as she left, there would be no turning back. Her mom walks in and takes her hand. “Come on dear. You have your bed at home.” She says, chuckling at her own little joke. Penelope smiles, it’s a small comfort for her mother, a knee jerk reaction for her. “Let’s go.” She says, holding the bag with the remainder of her belongings. As she reaches the door, she shoots a final glance at the room, her heart sinking. ‘What am I leaving to find?” 

Dr MacCallum is at the reception area, a smile on his worn face. “How are you Penelope?” He asks, his eyes tired. Her sympathy for the man increased. When last did he have a good meal? Rested for longer than a day? Enjoyed living? She answers, another knee jerk reaction. “I’m okay. Still a little sore here and there but I’m getting better.” A perfect response. It’s so automatic, she feels her stomach lurch. I’m going back to the mundane dead end life I dislike. The doctor gives her a knowing smile and takes up conversation with her mother. ‘He understands.’ Her mind supplies. ‘He’s dealt with parents like this before.’ She steps away to give them some privacy. ‘More unnecessary talk.’ Her mind supplies, darkly. 

As she glances around the reception area, she sees a man helping his wife into a wheelchair an orderly brought. The woman’s face is red and sweaty. ‘She’s going to be a mom’ Penelope thinks, the child-like wording having her confused for a minute. It’s disorienting, so much so that she takes a seat on the row with the man and woman. Her breathing exercise comes back to her. ‘Slow deep breaths’ she thinks as she slowly drags air into her lungs. Her eyes drift shut, focusing on the breaths. Not much later, her eyes open and she looks around. The woman and man left with the orderly and were waiting by the elevator, the woman’s face creased and the man anxious. The orderly’s face seems impassive but Penelope can see the small tremor in his eyes. He’s twitching. 

She looks to the seat and notices the man’s wallet and newspaper on the seat. Moving quickly she grabs them both and makes her way to the elevator. “Excuse me? You left this over there.” Motioning to the things in her hand, the man gives her a grateful smile. “Thank you.” he whispers grabbing the wallet. At this time his wife lets out a spine chilling wail. The elevator opens and they climb quickly aboard leaving Penelope holding the newspaper. His eyes focused on his wife, he tells Penelope that she can keep the newspaper. The woman looks up at her and with a strained voice asks her name. “Penelope” she says, smiling. “My name is Penelope.” The woman gives her a small smile and settles back into her seat, her face contorting as another contraction ripples through her abdomen. 

The doors close on the scene and Penelope stands there for a few seconds looking at the closed door. Offering a silent prayer for the woman, she returns to her seat, her newspaper clutched in her hand. ‘It’s a long wait’ she thinks as her mother and the doctor have moved over to a seat next to the cafeteria. Her mother’s face is drawn, meaning that whatever the doctor was saying had her really concerned or really upset. “I can only imagine.” She mutters, knowing very well that anything the doctor said would cause her mother to worry. "Was it always like this?”

Her memories came back a lot faster than she was expecting. After the newscast that had her fainting, the days after had many improvements. She remembered her birthdays from ages four to sixteen. She remembered her brother’s and father’s funeral. She remembered the awful spat that had her mother and her sister "Sisely" not speaking to each other for weeks. She remembered when her sister moved. It was almost a curse to have the memories back. They all left her feeling hurt and empty. 

The few flashes of happiness she remembered were overshadowed with more memories that grieved her. “I’ll need to seek therapy after this.” She’d joked, after an hour long session of unrestrained sobbing. The doctor agreed wholeheartedly while her mother seemed to be almost repulsed by the idea. “It will help her. After all it seems that she has suppressed the accident.” He had said. But the look in her mother’s eyes was almost defiant. After she’d left for a meal in the hospital cafeteria, the doctor returned. Looking at her, he whispered, “I know.” And that was all there was to it.

Returning to the present, she settled into her seat. Remembering the newspaper, she opens it and scans the front page. A young man is on the cover, his blue eyes and blondish hair looking untamed, a large smile on his boyish looking face. He seems about Penelope’s age. Dragging her eyes from the familiar face, she reads the title of the article. “Young man still missing. Presumed dead.” Her eyes return to the picture, the man’s eyes are now aquamarine. She can hear his laughter, smell the crisp air and food cooking. His blond hair is now unkempt looking due to the winds on the bay’s dock. He looks at her, all smiles, through the viewfinder of her camera, waiting to be captured like this forever. Star walks over and stands next to her, admiring the shot. “Beautiful” Star whispers as the shutter clicks. “He’s beautiful.”

Her eyes are shut. When did that happen? The sounds of the day flood back. They’re all there. Camping. Mom and dad. Her siblings. A man she can’t name and…him. Who was he any why did it hurt to see him? She wants to scream at him, to hurt him…but for what reason, she can’t remember.  
Penelope feels the soft touch of her mother’s hand on her jacket. “Sorry we took so long dear. It was a rather…intense…discussion.” Her eyes open blearily. Her head hurts. Sitting up, she realized that she had slumped in her seat. Groaning, she clutches at her head. “I have these. I almost knew you’d need them.” Her mother says, placing two small capsules in her hand and a cool bottle of water in the other. She peeks through her lashes at the doctor, who stood aside, ready to assist if need be. Swallowing the capsules with little preamble, she sips from the water bottle to help ease their descent. ‘The water is cool to ensure no temperature shock.’ Her mind supplies uselessly. Anything remotely presenting itself as a means of messing her head was very unwelcome. 

Clutching the newspaper, she and her mother leave the reception area. The doctor trails behind, watching her for any sign of discomfort. “The injuries must have been way worse than I thought.” she mutters. A taxi comes into view and stops near to them. “Goodbye Doc. God bless you.” She says heartily. The doctor wishes her farewell, a similar prayer extended to her. Smiling, she sits in the car waiting her mother’s entrance. She hears her mother bidding farewell to the doctor and his reply. Settling herself next to Penelope, her mother closes the door and they begin the drive home. 

But before they can leave the hospital’s lot, Penelope brings out the clutched newspaper. 

Her mother’s face gets its pinched look as Penelope asks, 

“Mother? Who is Franz?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far. The final chapters will be up soon. All errors are my own.


	13. Chapter 13

The wind whips his face even through the protective covering of the helmet. ‘There’s a fault in it somewhere.’ he surmises. ‘Just perfect for me I guess.’   
It’s been two months since the fire destroyed the bookshop his father owned. Two months since he last saw home. Two months since he decided to sober up. The view is beautiful like this. When it’s so skewed, it’s all a blur. It’s perfect. He speeds up, the cycle roaring around corners. If he crashed, it would be tragic. ‘But what a way to go.’ He mused. ‘Much more merciful than… Than he had been.’ The thought has him wanting to let go of the handles and crash into the rocky mountain side or drop over the steep edge of the road. It was barely restrained. ‘What could metal do against the will of God or human will?’ he thought. 

Their faces filled his mind. 

She looked at Franz. Franz looked at her. Their mocking words. “Damn them.” he hisses. “Damn them!” He takes a particularly sharp corner at top speed, not caring for the other motorists or himself. ‘I’ve killed before. What would make this any different?’ he thinks, the despair creeping into his mind. ‘I’ve no one to blame but myself.’ He rounds another corner, sharper than before. Reaching a “Closed for Construction” sign on the path to the top, he spins around quickly and speeds back down the road. It’s dangerous, but he can’t help it. “They deserved it. That is all that matters. They deserved it.” He whispers with conviction. He wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t wrong. ”They deserved it.”

He reaches the log resort. The Echo Green Resort was run by one of his father’s associates. The place had a modernistic/rustic feel about it. Just modern enough to be relevant but rustic enough to be relaxing. He looks at the women on vacation there. Divorced wives or unwed women in the pool. At the bar, trying to drown their sorrows in alcohol. Or drugs. There were suppliers around. The teenage girls and their wide-eyed stares. On break from school, looking for fun. Or trouble. He notices the glower of the young men and the older males. He looked amazing he knew. Leather jacket, black jeans, dark sunglasses, combat boots and the helmet held under his arm made him look like the perfect embodiment of the term ‘bad boy’. The knapsack on his back gave him a slight edge. It was almost…flattering. ‘All eyes on me.’ He thinks.

Continuing on his way, he nods to a few of the people, just enough to appear sociable. As he moves further away from the crowd, his demeanor changes. A getaway spot for some but an alibi for him. The area just a few miles north of the main building was used by guests with problems. He turns into the path a few feet before the area. The “drug problem” hidey-hole. Who would guess that the folksy place doubled as a rehab center for some lost souls. He scoffed. Yes. ‘Lost souls’. He was indeed one of those lost souls. ‘Save me.’ He thought mockingly. ‘Save me.’ What a joke. He couldn’t help the sneer that graced his face then. Pathetic. Messed up people were everywhere, he guessed. The rich coming to detox or inject himself with the concoctions that would eventually lead him to the “special V.I.P area”. It was ironic. A paradox. All an unnecessary cover. To hide their true problem: loneliness. 

Well, dating always helped in quelling that loneliness. At least, for him. But as always, there were few relationships that managed to…curb his…inclinations. His father had packed him off to the resort whenever he got into trouble. ‘Out of sight. Out of mind’ he thought venomously. There was the incident with Star’s sister Mina. He could still remember what he did to her. Slapped her around a bit. Got high. Threatened her. All because Penelope had ignored him in favor of hanging out with that stupid St. Clair boy. How long had he gone missing? Three years? At the rate they were going, he’d never be found. No. He wasn’t dead, but being that badly disfigured, he probably wished he was. Then there was Tina, Margo’s twin sister. He’d dated both but preferred Tina as she was a lot less shy. She was a rebel. Everything Penelope could be if she just let go of that ‘good girl’ image. Perfect in his image and likeness of what she should be.

That relationship was doomed though. Tina was too much of a rebel and didn’t believe he was that important to be doted on. A thorough beating of Sam Masters made her see him differently. He’d threatened her to keep her mouth shut. So to save face, she ran. And never came back. It was almost fun. And why had that beating occurred? Penelope didn’t want to sit and chat with him when he had asked her to. He‘d “demanded”, she’d said to him. She didn’t like his tone, she’d said. But yet when Franz came over and “asked” her to sit, she complied, with no argument. Tina had said something about him being so “demanding” when they were walking home. He grabbed her hand, almost ready to smack her when Sam appeared, telling him to stop and he lost it. Sam took the brunt for himself, Tina and Penelope. Sam was in the bookshop weeks before trying to flirt with Penelope. 

He got what he deserved.

Sascha had come next. All warm smiles and happy wishes, but she’d been too much like him for comfort. He dumped her quicker than he’d expected. Amae was right after. Manipulative and self-centered too but much more likable. It was almost fate until she left, opting for her aunt’s house in the Caribbean rather than the old book shop, the only thing he really had to offer of substance. Jennifer was next. Low self-esteem and the perfect body type, she’d found out about his obsession with Penelope and began the alterations necessary to make her “perfect”. If he looked at hard enough, she would’ve have been his Penelope. But her mother found out and made her go to therapy. They don’t speak now. 

Carson Matthews had been the one he’d relished beating the most. The empty fool went around boasting that he was with Penelope and how hung up on him she was. How she was so shallow and brainless and would do anything to please him. He’d found himself “mugged” shortly after that story had been told, his “handsome face” almost non-existent. That would teach him. The facial reconstruction surgery seemed to be going okay. He frowned as he remembered the comments. That fool Jennifer made Penelope look cheap. He should deal with her too. He just might. 

Star was another cheap thrill. He’d asked that they keep their relationship on the low. They were friends. He loved Penelope and she loved Franz. But neither of them glanced at the other, so the rejected doters decided to date their fellow scorned. It was almost perfect until Franz mucked it up by asking Star to date. She dumped him and went on to have the beginning of her happily ever after. She even told Franz about them. It would’ve been okay if she had kept her mouth shut. He could see the haughty look in Franz’s eyes. The smug bastard was always mocking him. He had Star and Penelope. He remembered when he’d told Star about Franz’s possible crush on Penelope. “He may have one but he respects me enough not to act on it.” She’d said confidently. Had she known about the party last year when Franz got so drunk he almost kissed Margo and tried to kiss Penelope under the mistletoe?

“Your boyfriend is just as cheap as the rest of us, Darling.” He spat at her the week after the party, a few hours after she’d returned from visiting her aunt.

The look in her eyes was priceless as he regaled her boyfriend’s exploits. “He’s such a keeper.” He’d said mockingly as he left. 

He shifted his knapsack at the thought. He’d reached the end of the hiking trail. Though it was not allowed to be deviated from, the trail passed directly in front of the path to his cabin and people would, out of curiosity, walk up the dirt path to explore. He grunted and spun on his heels, the knapsack swiveling. The plastic bag on the bottom of the sack pressed on his lower back. Shifting it again, he makes his way to his private cabin, up a slight incline. It’s far away from the main area to be relaxing but close enough to be mindful of his…activities. His dad was a great guy, hooking him up with such a lovely hideaway. He owed him just a bit. ‘But everything else is your fault dad.’ Reaching the cabin, he unzips the jacket and pulls out the key card in his undershirt pocket. Sliding it through the scanner, he hears the door click open. “Home sweet home.” He mutters.

He sees Penelope’s book on the bookshelf first as he enters. Walking over, he picks it up and studies it. The majority of her blood had been wiped off. The book still looked worse for wear but he understood why. It was her favorite. He’d seen her reading it again and again. She knew the words by heart but still kept the ragged book on her person. He remembered glancing at the cover and finding a copy of it. A newer one. She had smiled and thanked him, but pushed it aside telling him that she preferred the old one. He made the mistake of asking why she didn’t just throw it away once and saw a shadow of something he never knew she had possible contained within her. Rage. 

“Why should I?” She snapped. “Did your father ever release your mother’s belongings?” Her eyes were flashing then and she had looked away ashamed as she had uttered the words. “I’m sorry. Forgive me.” She looked at him. “I appreciate your kindness, but the value of the book supersedes its appearance. It is of great sentimental value.”   
He looked at the book and scoffed. Picking it up, he looked at the worn cover. He could make out the faded words very barely in the light. “To our darling. Good luck at university. –Daddy, Mamma, Donnie and Sisley.” 

“So that‘s what she meant.” He mused aloud. “The university dream died, that’s certain. But it was the last time they were all together.” He looked at the cover again, noticing the smaller writing. “Fifteenth birthday.” Penelope’s scrawl, no doubt. He touched it fondly, feeling his heart swell a bit. “If only this were a dream.” He says aloud, still tracing the words. Placing the book back on the shelf, he removes his boots and jacket and places them near the door. “Old habits.” He says with a chuckle. Moving into the kitchen he grabs a bottle of water and heads to the den. Booting up the old laptop, he settles in to play some mindless online game when a knock sounds. Deciding to ignore it, he moves to gather the gaming equipment when a shout of his name sounds. Barely restraining a growl he walks back to the door. Taking a few breaths, he schools his face. ‘Can’t be frowning at the man now can I?’ he thinks. ‘After all, he’s unknowingly harboring a criminal.’ 

Opening the door with a wide smile, he comes face to face with Jack, his father’s friend, the owner of the Echo setup. “Jack! How are you?” he asks, praying the feigned sincerity in his voice is enough to keep the man from wanting to enter. Jack’s face is grave, his usually jolly disposition stressed. “Jack?” he asks, unsure. The man looks at him, his voice sharp. “Your dad wants you home.” His heart racing, he stutters. “W…wh…why?” The man’s face clears and he guffaws loudly. “You should have seen your face.” He chokes out. He smiles and hopes the man doesn’t notice that it fails to reach his eyes. If he’d seen his eyes, that would be another thing.

“Seriously,” the man continues, “Your dad wants you home. That girlfriend of yours is out of the hospital.” The confusion on his face must be mistaken for something else because the man backtracks. “Forgot you didn’t know. The shop burned down but your girl got out just in time. Lucky break I guess.” His face is still frozen, the man still believing its shock from hearing the news. “Sit down, son.” Jack tells him, his body quick to obey. “She’s okay?” he croaks from his position on the floor. “Yeah. Just a few bruises here and there but she’s okay.” Jack answers. He scrambles to his feet, grabbing the knapsack, his jacket and shoes. Running to the trail, he barely makes a few steps on it before Jack’s voice cuts through the haze. “Lost her memory, okay? Be patient if she forgets you.”

Nodding and waving, he runs at top speed to the lot and his bike. Almost knocking people over in his haste, he mutters some apologies and continues on his way. Reaching the bike, he hops on, kick-starts and roars away from the Echo resort.

The roar of the bike isn’t loud enough to shut out the thoughts racing in his head.

‘She’s alive?’

‘How?’

‘Was it all a dream?’


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been one year. How time flies. Thank you to the readers who have kept with this for so long. The final chapter is here. This is not the end of my writing though as I'm planning on starting another story. It should be longer than this one. Thanks again for viewing. Enjoy! -TMFF.

“So nice to see you dear.” Mr Geordie said warmly, embracing her. “I’m sorry that wayward son of mine wasn’t here to greet you. He’s off on another adventure.” She smiled weakly, remembering the code the man had used whenever his son had done something that warranted him leaving. It was creepy how quickly the memories of the code had come back. She feels the forced smile slipping. The boy’s name was still a mystery but she knew the man in front of her and his son. But the boy’s face and name kept evading her. “I’ll go chat with your mom for a bit.” He says, leaving the girl alone to her thoughts. Her mind wanders back to the ride home.

“Franz was Star’s boyfriend. He, Star, Geordie’s son and you were best friends.” Her mom had said in the car. “I won’t call that boy’s name. He’s caused too much trouble.” She frowns, looking at her mother. “What do you mean?” The woman’s mouth opens but she abruptly shuts it. “It’s your first day out. I won’t have you upset.” She wants to ask more questions, but the stubborn set of her mother’s mouth has her knowing that no more answers were going to be found just then. “Probably never.” She voices aloud. Her mother casts a glance at her but she quickly covers it up, using another excuse. ‘My life is nothing but smoke and mirrors, false reflections and pacifying hollow words.’ She thinks, the words oddly poetic.

The rest of the ride is quiet.

She adjusts herself in her seat, just before the phone rings. Getting up, she answers it drowsily. “Hello?” “How are you, young-ling?” the voice asks, concerned. “It’s Sissy, love. How are you?” She feels her throat close up as a sob breaks through. “Hush up young-ling.” The voice says with no heat. “You know how mama gets.” They both share a sad laugh. “I’ll be up to see you in a few hours okay. Tell mom that I’ll be bringing a guest. Or two.” She breathes out a short okay, embarrassed her older sister heard her crying. “It’s okay, honey. Let it out. I love you.” She shyly says it back, the two never the type for the overly affectionate displays. They knew and that was all that mattered. Hanging up the phone she returns to her seat.

Sitting down, she barely feels the wave of darkness sweep over as she falls asleep. 

In the dream, a young woman is crying over the body of another while two more stand over her, watching. They all look like sisters. She walks closer to the company but the scene shifts. Instead the body of the girl is no longer there but her companions are, all sitting down, facing away from Penelope. A chair is vacant, so she sits. A childish voice rings out. “You’re back!” it giggles. “How did you know that that seat was for you?” She looks around, looking for the person who took the seat and also for the speaker. Turning back, it’s a younger version of herself sitting on the seat before her, her eyes wide and innocent. “Why did you leave?” she whispers, her eyes shining with tears. “I thought I lost you.” Hugging the child to her chest, she cries too, apologizing for leaving her behind. Another voice sounds then.

“It’s all a metaphor. My name is Penn and I’m also another version of you. I’m your logic and reasoning and I have to say, you use those a lot.” She looks into the face of another version of herself, considerably older, a more mature and accomplished looking type. She greets this woman just as heartily as the child, but with the same level of wonderment. ‘‘Penn’’ looks at the child and speaks. “Come on Penny. Let’s take a walk.” Holding the child’s hand firmly, they walk away but not before Penny breaks free and runs back to give Penelope a kiss on the cheek. Running back to Penn, she turns and waves and then resumes her walk.

“Children are so cute…and pathetic.” A voice sneers. Penelope feels her back stiffen. Getting up from the chair she turns to face an arrogant looking young woman. It takes her aback when she notices that it’s herself. “How…?” she questions, but the thing looks at her, with a smug grin. “Yes. I’m technically you. No. I don’t have a silly variant of your name. Don’t be daft. I’m my own person.” The girl disappears. “One you refuse to accept exists.” The voice says behind her. Spinning around, she comes face to face with a humanoid figure. She feels her body retreating. “How can you…run from yourself?” it rasps. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be dead.” The words have her frozen. “D…De…dead?” she stutters. “I’m not d…dead. I’m a…al…alive. See?” The humanoid rasps out a laugh. “Oh you really are that naïve. Naïve to the point of stupidity. You died in that fire Penelope but the Keeper gave you another chance.”

The images of the night come back. The attack. The fire. The pain. His words. She shakes her head. “No.” she says, her eyes blazing. “It was a nightmare. Nothing more. Nothing less. NO.”

The substance falls off in one or two areas revealing crisscrossed paper strips. It comes to her mind that the substance is ink. “The dream you had? It wasn’t a dream. That really happened.” It spits hoarsely. The nightmare all those weeks back in the hospital. The man and…Franz. “They were real?” she asks. The figure sighs. “Are you that far in denial dear? Yes. It’s all real.” She shrinks from the harsh sounding thing. “Too creepy for you?” It asks. “How about we change into someone more comfortable?” It’s her voice. It’s her face. It’s her. “Familiar, love?” it asks. The outfit. It was the outfit she wore the night of the fire. “Say it correctly darling. The night you died.”

“Get out of my head!” she screams, launching forward and grabbing the monstrosity. It chuckles. “Why do you think you can do something to me? Why do you think you can fight yourself?” The ink crawls up her hands. “We are one darling. Stop fighting it.” She sees the child version of herself and the older version nodding. They being to disintegrate and merge with the humanoid. The ink slides into her nose and mouth. “It’s not going to hurt me” the humanoid answers. “It’s not going to hurt us.” Slowly the ink fills her eyes and ears. Mustering up her courage she thinks toward the humanoid. She hears herself chuckle. “My name is Penelope. But you can call me Paper Cut.”

“Sanguine.” she whispers. “Sanguine.” Someone chuckles near to her. It’s young, masculine, strong. “You’re finally awake.” He whispers. Her eyes fly open and she looks toward the voice. Smiling, she remembers his name. “Vincenzo, dear. How are you? I missed you terribly.” She sits up then and finds herself clutching a gold ink pen. “Expensive.” He comments. She laughs. “Cheap. Bought out of whimsy. Named it just the same.”

The dinner isn’t comfortable. Her mother glaring daggers at Vincenzo, his father barely looking at him. She casts sideways glances at him wondering how her best friend had fallen so far. A knock at the door has her scrambling to answer it. It’s Sisley. “Sis. So glad to see you.” She hugs her sister, her eyes wet with tears. Her sister’s eyes aren’t much better, her mascara running. It’s messy but she loves it. “Hurry.” She whispers. “Mom is nigh to killing Vincenzo, I swear.” She hurriedly ushers her sister in almost knocking over her sister’s guest. “This is Zoe and Murdoch…I mean Manswell. We’re engaged.” “Who you and Zoe? You and Manswell? Or You, Zoe and Manswell?” she asks stupidly. Her sister and the guests laugh. “Manny and I. Zoe is his twin sister.” Her sister answers. 

“Whew. For a second I started to wonder how we’d have made it through dinner.” She commented. Zoe smiled. “You have my blessing, though, Manswell. Keep my sister happy and safe, that’s all I ask.” He looks at her sister then, the look intense. “I promise.” He says. They walk off hand in hand. “You would swear it was his wedding vows.” She whispered, surprised at the snicker she hears. She forgot about Zoe. “I’m sorry. Don’t be offended.” Zoe laughs harder. “I’m not in the least. He’s weird like that.” Hanging up the overcoats, Zoe and Penelope make their way to the dining room. “And this is Zoe.” Her sister says, beckoning toward Zoe with her hand. Penelope notices her sister’s hand and barely holds back a scoff. ‘Suddenly she’s left handed. Who would have thought?’

She glances toward Vincenzo and notices his face. It’s pulled tight as Murdoch looks toward her with a small smile on his face. She notices the death grip on his fork. ‘He’s really the type.’ She thinks, feeling her heart sink. The dinner passes quietly. The dessert session has her sister revealing her engagement and the possibility of grand-kids in the near future. Her mother, though somewhat displeased, is excited all the same. She sees the look in Vincenzo’s eyes. It’s the wish that it was them. She shudders. No thanks.

A conversation they’d had resurfaced in her memory. “I’m not interested in marriage until years from now. I need to find out who I am.” She’d seen the look in his face when she’d said that. The undesired feeling of rejection. Madden Pratt walked in then, showing off his knowledge of the greats. She’d laughed knowing that it was all a ploy to impress her and that the boy must have done an internet search or something, since he was dead-set against reading. Then he’d been beaten half to death a few hours later. She looked at Vincenzo and noticed that Murdoch had looked at her again. Smiling politely, she moves to the kitchen, to get some ice cream but not before chancing a glance at Vincenzo. There was murder in his eyes.

“Saturday?” Penelope asks “Can we go to Star’s cabin? We can invite her to come along?” She sees the young man’s face pale. “Star hasn’t been heard from in days dear. She probably left to visit her aunt after Franz disappeared.” Sisley says, somberly. The mood shifts, a sobering feeling passes through, dissipating the semi drunken happy state everyone had felt. Not wanting to upset Penelope so soon after her leaving the hospital, Vincenzo volunteers to carry her. Her mother is quick to shut down the idea but Sisley, sensing something budding between them decides to even the playing field. “Zoe? How about you go with them, huh?” Zoe readily agrees. “It will be so much fun” she squeals.

Vincenzo smiles. Just him, Penelope and her sister in law.

The Saturday morning is lightly overcast. Penelope and Zoe dress warm and sit on the steps waiting for Vincenzo. He comes by, ten minutes later with hot cocoa and donuts as a way to appease them. Her stomach filled with food, Zoe leans in the back seat and dozes off. He puts on music to fill the void as Penelope opens a book and begins to read. An hour and a half later, they reach their destination. He turns to wake Zoe but Penelope stops him. “I want to speak to you. Alone, if you don’t mind.” He looks at her as she gets out, hope in his heart. Was this the second chance he was hoping for?

He hurries out after her, noticing the way she looked unaffected by the wind. It was beautiful somehow. Suddenly she walks toward the area where Franz’s body was and tripped there of all places. Rushing up to her, he noticed the area where some of her blood had fallen. It reminded him of that night. Picking her up, he hurries away from the spot, his legs trembling. “Am I that heavy that your knees are buckling?” she asks, giggling. Setting her on a log nearby, he looks up at her and stumbles backward. “What?” she asks, genuinely surprised at his reaction. “Are you okay?” He shakes his head and nods, too afraid to speak. He could’ve sworn he saw her face mangled, just like that night, her eyes black. “Okay then. Tell me, doc, how bad is it?” Testing her ankle, he hears a small crack. She winces a little. “I hope that’s natural.” The wind picks up by this time. Shuddering, he picks her up again and moves toward the truck. Reaching only ten feet from the truck, he feels something hit him in his head. Letting go of his precious cargo, he falls forward into the dust. Turning around with some effort, he comes face to face with Franz.

“Jesus!” he shrieks, skittering away from the apparition. He looks in the direction of where Penelope’s body was supposed to have fallen but she wasn’t there. Looking up, he saw the young woman hovering, her body unraveled. “You killed me.” She rasps. “Why?” He feels his throat close. “Why?!” she hisses. Ink and strips of paper crawl toward him, oddly enough, not being blown away by the wind. They reach their target and wrap around his legs. The strips multiply and hold him in place. Lifting him to standing, Penelope outstretches her hand and lifts him to her level. The ink makes its way into his nose and eyes. He shrieks, the sound muffled by the ink. Suddenly the ink stops invading him. Penelope asks him again, her voice gentle considering the circumstances. “Why?” 

“Because” he hisses “You ignored me!” Penelope flinches. The boy sounds unhinged. “I did everything to keep you safe. To keep you from being hurt.” His mouth foams. “We would have been perfect. If only you had loved me instead of him.” The statement has her confused. “What on earth are you talking about?” “Marrying him.” He screams, nodding his head in Franz’s direction. Penelope allows herself a short laugh. “You mistook my comment that day, didn’t you?” She starts laughing hysterically. “I died because you misunderstood?!” She feels the rage build. The ink floods his eyes, nose, ears and mouth. “I was talking about Star, you daft man. All this death because you refused to listen to reason.”

The flood of ink stops. “Apologize. And I will give you a chance.” She whispers. He spits at her. “Never.” Her hands tighten as the paper strips around his neck do. Gasping, he asks Penelope to grant him one last request. “Get your boyfriend to get my knapsack.” Franz walks to the sack propped near the truck. Walking back, he holds it up to Vincenzo. “Open it and dump the sack.” Flipping the sack open, Franz dumps the contents. A small Ziploc bag falls out, bloody and thick. The smell is powerful. The air is now filled with the stench of rotting blood. Looking at them both, he spits. “I’m not sorry. No I’m not. It’s a wonder if Star’s can talk with their tongues cut?” 

“It’s Star’s tongue!” Franz wails, his body falling to the ground. He looks at Penelope with hurt in his eyes. “I have loved you. I have always. But if you see me suffering, prolong me not. Let me go Penelope. Let me go.” As Franz’s finished saying that, his body exploded into tiny paper fragments and scattered with the wind. “Let me go! Let me go!” Vincenzo says his voice mimicry. He laughs. “The sweet goody two shoes will let me go.” “I accept all of me!” She screams to the sky. “In that, I am free. Rage is a part of me! I let it go free!” She looks at him, her eyes glowing, “I must thank your mom. As a page keeper she helped with the second chance thing. I owe her my life.” He feels fear building. “And now, I’m going to change yours.” He’s stripped apart and his blood drawn out with her pen and mixed with the ink. After a few turns, a new book is on the ground, next to the “cheap” gold pen. Penelope descends and picks it up. “I do enjoy a new book.” She whispers to the pages.

Getting back in the truck, she makes it back home, tired but better than she’d felt in years. Zoe woke up some time after and they looked around the area, checking out new sights. Dumping the truck after it ran out of gas they made it back home on the bus. 

 

 

Epilogue

~Seven months later~

Penelope welcomed her twin nieces, their eyes bright and full of wonder. It was amazing to think that these children were her sister’s kids. They had nothing for their mother. Zoe had knitted the girls new baby booties while Penelope got them soft, my early readers’ books. Her new job was going great. The new library had needed a trainee librarian and she jumped at the opportunity. Her mother was displeased, as usual, but after some visits with the therapist she learned that she needed to let go. Grudgingly, she gave up trying, though the controlling way of hers still managed to cloud her judgment here and there. After three months Penelope moved out and found an apartment for herself. This was met with more displeasure but Penelope learned to handle it. 

They had found Star, three weeks after that Saturday, hurt but alive living with her aunt as she was recuperating after the attack. She had to adjust to sign language and was discouraged to leave the safe haven. After sometime but Penelope persuaded her to live with her in the apartment. Zoe moved in a while after and so did another girl, Rosa, who had been found half dead from starvation. Rosa would often stay in the back room of the bookshop before it had burned to the ground. Franz's body was found sometime after. By an anonymous tip. The caller sounded very familiar.

Vincenzo's father knew what had happened and didn't question it. It was his son's doing anyway. Revealing what had happened, Penelope looks on in amazement as she meets another page keeper. The man assures her that her secrets are safe with him.

 

Tuning back into the moment, she watches as the family look at the new bundles of joy, squirming in her sister’s hands. 

The news came up then. “Victim has been identified as the Side Street Killer” the reporter began, but Penelope shut the TV set off. 

“No time for old news, let’s focus on the future.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~PAPER~CUT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paper Cut walks through the streets, the cold air rustling her outfit. 

Sanguine is strapped on her side. It looks so harmless. 

She walks down the alley and senses herself being followed. Another fool.

“It’s stupid to be out here all alone, dear.” he slurs. Drunk and entitled. What a lovely combination. Or is it cocktail?

She smirks. “Oh no. I’m not alone. God is on my side.” 

The man chuckles. “Faith can move mountains I hear.”

He moves close enough for her to smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“Yes.” She says, her eyes dripping ink. Turning around to face him, she sees him recoil. 

Drawing out Sanguine, she whispers “And also, the pen is mightier than the sword. How about a good night story?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the ride. Until next the time. -TMFF.

**Author's Note:**

> To everyone who took the time to read my attempt I thank you.


End file.
